


Written in the Stars

by Redstockingfelix



Category: Blixa Bargeld - Fandom, Nick Cave - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disability, Drugs, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redstockingfelix/pseuds/Redstockingfelix
Summary: A slightly alternate universe, set in the present, where neither have married or settled down with other partners. Nick and Blixa were involved, years ago; they went their separate ways when Nicks drug use became too much. The setting is at the final concert of an Einsturzende Neubauten tour. Don’t want to give too much detail as it’s in the story.(For clarity - this is in ongoing chapters, each chapter being in the first person, so showing the emotions/reactions of each of the two characters, one after the other. So, two “Chapter1s”, one following the other. Then the same for Chapter 2, and so on)I have a few ongoing ideas and hope to continue in that manner, if it’s not too confusing.My first attempt at this, dedicated to BL. Hope you enjoy....constructive feedback very welcome. Please be gentle.....
Relationships: Blixa Bargeld - Relationship, Nick Cave - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Nick Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDogChair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogChair/gifts).



> All my imagination. No offence or anything else intended to the characters. Fictional story about two real people, in a slightly alternate universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ‘first chapter 1’, from Nick’s perspective. My intention is to post each chapter as a pair, so that both characters’ views can be followed at the same time.

Chapter 1. (Nick)

I stood in the crowd, close to the stage, just to the right of centre, to get a good view of him. I knew he wouldn’t notice me; and the others there were unlikely to I tpay any attention. After all, they were here to see *him*, and his fellow band members. No-one would recognise me, the once famous singer, now famous for my spectacular and literal crash and decline and fall from grace into addiction.

The show started, and suddenly, there he was, dressed as ever, now, these days, in a black three piece suit, and those bare feet. But as the light hit him, the black suit shone and sparkled like a million stars in an endless sky - not obvious, but just there, the sparkle woven throughout the material.

My breath was taken away, seeing this late middle aged man, now plump and ‘padded’ - a friend used that word and I loved it as a descriptor. Padded Blixa, with greying hair. Beautiful as ever.

And still every bit as sexy, spinetinglingly fascinating, and able to command his audience with a look, a word, a gesture, or a silence. 

How long since I had seen him? Spoken, communicated, or.....been with him? Too long. Years. Life too short....I had to know if there was still a spark there. A chance, a possibility.

Looking at him, now, I still saw the tall, skeletal figure he had been when we first met; the androgynous beauty with cheekbones like blades, dressed in black rubber and leather, one eye made up, hair in spikes and chunks missing where he had hacked at it. And oh, the beauty ..... I had never seen such a beautiful human, ever, and he was still, underneath the suit. 

Blixa. *My* Blixa. 

Suddenly, I felt a surge of panic; he had stepped over, close to where I was, to put something down, and in that moment, had seen me: I froze, staring back. Couldn’t move. Despite now needing to use a walking stick - the car crash I had had left me with a badly broken leg, and the option of jail or rehab. I chose rehab, never expected it to work, but it did - I had the urge to try to run, to elbow through the crowds around me, forget this silly idea Ihad had of ‘just seeing him’. Instead, I could not move. “Rabbit in the headlights”.

I saw him gesture, a hand movement, behind him, without taking his eyes off me, and wondered at whom ......he had motioned to one of the crew to come over, spoke briefly to him, the crew member disappeared off stage, and Blixa went back to the centre of the stage to start the next song.

I saw the crew member approaching me.....’’He says to come round and wait backstage, and he’ll come and see you at the first break’’. I nodded dumbly, unable to speak, terrified yet elated at the same time, and followed him.

The crew member had put a seat at the stage side so that I could sit out of sight of the crowd, but still watch the show. And I did, transfixed.

Twice, as I stared at my love, he looked in my direction; and smiled at me....and heart felt like it would leap out of my chest.

Finally the interval came.

He walked over to where I was sitting, and without stopping, reached down and took my hand and I felt myself floating along behind him. He was in charge. He was speaking, but I couldn’t concentrate to hear what he said....I was so lost in this unexpected turn of events....

Into one of the backstage rooms he led me, and we just stood and stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity; and then, it became as though the time had never passed between our last meeting, and now.

We spoke - or rather, tried to, both at the same time; and laughed at that.

He reached out and gently ran a finger down my cheek. I was crying, and hadn’t realised; he wiped the teardrop and tasted it. And then he took me in his arms and kissed me so gently that our lips barely met, but....it felt like suddenly I had come alive again. Every nerve tingled with delight and passion, and I wanted him, oh how I wanted him......but not for a one night memory and then ‘back to my life’.

I wanted him in every way, to be with him, and live with him; eat, sleep, talk, fuck, cuddle, everything. To be the first thing he saw when he woke, and the last thing before he slept.

I wanted to be ‘in life’ with him. Together, for life. Not just a fragmented memory to say ‘hello/goodbye’.....

but what did he want? As far as I knew, he was not involved with anyone; but what did I know? And now, knowing my own feelings - for I had not allowed myself to admit the true depth of them till now - what would I do if he did not want that, too?

After all, the way things had ended before....why should he want to have anything to do with me? Yet here we were, kissing, after he asked me to come and see him.....

We had ended in such a quick and unpleasant way; he gave me a choice: ‘’It’s me or zat filth! I have had enough - you choose...!!!!!’’

And choose I did. I chose the drugs. And he left. And I lost my career, my home, everything. And then, just over a year ago, I managed to get myself together, with help. Clean, now. But why should he trust me?

‘’Please stay till after, and then we can talk, and eat, and catch up’’ he said. Eight years had passed since our parting. ‘’I have to go back on stage now....promise you will stay?’’ I nodded. 

‘’May I sit where I was?’’ (these days, I found it difficult to stand for long periods of time. My health was not my finest point now. And I used to think I was invincible, nothing could touch me....huh)

‘’Of course’’ he said. ‘’And afterwards, just you and me; no other members, no people, just us. Is that ok for you?’’

I could only nod - asking me if it was ok ..... oh, it was ok....and he took me by the hand again, and led me back to where I’d been before. It was as if he knew that I needed the care, the tenderness; he seemed to sense it. Unless he had read something about me - there had been a few mentions over the lead up to my breakdown. 

And then I thought....oh, please let it not be pity he feels.....I could not bear that.....

I sat on my chair, and watched him walk back on stage, his suit sparkling like a million fireflies in the night...please, I thought, please not let it be pity.....

I watched, listened, saw him looking over to me several times. I could not let myself believe in the possibility, and yet....

The concert was just finishing. Soon I would know......

End of Nick Chapter 1


	2. 2/Blixa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blixa’s version of Nick chapter1 .....apologies if I muddled it a bit. First time I’ve done this....

Blixa/Chapter 1  
I reached down to move a bit of paper, which was distracting me, fluttering in the night air. Last performance tonight, then some months of rest, release, free from expectations. Increasingly accepting the latter part of a ‘performance career’....and surprisingly, finding myself not minding. In fact, even looking forward to it, a little......

As I stood, my eyes caught a glimpse in the crowd, near the front - no, it couldn’t be; surely not....but he gazed back at me, and I realised it was him. Without breaking my gaze, I waved a crew member over, told him to please bring that person to back stage and ask him to wait there till I could speak to him at the break. And do it quickly, before he vanished, as he looked as though he was ready to go, knowing I had seen him. 

Walking back to the microphone, I kept a lookout from the corner of my eye, and saw the crew member talking to him, out front, and then together they moved off in the direction of backstage.

A few moments later, I saw him, sitting at the side,out of sight of the crowd,but watching. I could not help myself from keeping looking - and smiling at him. I could see he was not in the greatest of health - always so thin, but now, even more so, and seated; and with a walking stick....

My heart was pounding, I could barely concentrate, but had to keep going through two more pieces. I managed - I don’t think anyone noticed anything wrong, anyway. And then I went backstage.

I saw him before he saw me. The forlorn figure, seated, leaning on the beautifully carved walking stick...what could have happened?

‘’Hey’’ I said. He looked up.

‘’Hey to you too....’’....and he smiled that cheeky, impish grin which had always melted my resolve. So, that was still there, then.

‘’This way - more privacy ‘’ I said, taking his free hand, ignoring the stick - I knew I could find out about that later, and wanted him to feel no discomfort.

We went into one of the rooms, closed the door, and stood looking at one another. Stood, silently staring. And then we both spoke at the same time.....

‘’How long.....?’’  
‘’It’s been 8 years since....’’

And then both laughed.

And the only thing I knew I had to do was to take his face in my hands, and kiss him, gently, on the forehead, and then the lips.

Our parting 8 years ago had been so painful; I remembered giving him an ultimatum - ‘’Choose, you little bastard! Choose - me, or that filth! I can’t take any more of this!!!!”

And he had quietly, calmly said, ‘’Filth, then.’’

And I did the hardest thing Ive ever done; turned and walked away.

8 years ago.

8 years of wondering, of solitude - there was no other I wanted, and I had never been into sex for the sake of it, or one night stands. I had found, and lost,my soulmate. 

I had avoided - or tried to, as much as I could -reading the usual magazine and newsprint articles, as the pain of losing him was so bad. But I had picked up bits of information over the years; yes, another successful album and concert tour. But the record after that.....well, it did not get the same acclaim. As the drugs increasingly took over, he slid lower and lower, in every part of his life. 

The last I had heard was that he had been arrested for drink driving, after crashing his car into a tree - no other people involved or injured, but his leg was badly broken.

The court had given him the option of jail or rehab. He would not have lasted a day in jail, and I knew he knew that, so, much as he despised the thought of rehab, that was his choice. Just over a year ago.

‘’How are you?’’ I asked

‘’Just over a year clean.’’

I grabbed him, held him so tightly, I never wanted to let go; were we getting a second chance?

Interval time almost up, and no more time to talk....I asked him to stay, please stay, sit on the chair at the stage side, and he could watch the concert from there. He nodded....his eyes were brimming with tears; could not speak. I took him by the hand again - not to help him, but because I needed to feel the touch of his skin again. 

As he sat down, he squeezed my hand, and held it up to his cheek....I thought I would not be able to go on and perform with all the roiling emotions in my head and heart.

Back on centre stage, I turned to look at him and he smiled and I got through the rest of that gig on autopilot, I think. Every so often, we’d exchange secret glances - the audience couldn’t see him. I could not wait to finish and get back to him. I was terrified he would simply get up and leave - that I would turn to look and the chair would be empty....but no, he stayed, and after the final encore, as the crew began disassembling the set, and the other band members were busy chatting among themselves, I sped across to him, took his hand, and just said, ‘’Follow me....quick as we can’’

We made our way through the labyrinth of corridors, with doors everywhere, some open, some closed, with the sound of laughter and talk and clinking glasses, and other sounds, until the final door, bigger, with the safety bar across it. 

‘’Careful....couple of steps here’’ and I opened the door, and the night air rushed in....a purring sound, and the smell of traffic; but just one car was there, its’ driver standing beside it, holding the back door open for me.

‘’Guten abend , Herr Bargeld’’ he said, ‘’Danke’’ I replied, and I gently helped my companion into the car and across to the side, climbed in myself, and the driver closed the door, returned to the driving seat, and sped off.

‘’Where are we going?’’

‘’Home’’ I said. ‘’Home.’’


	3. Chapter 3/Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The concert finishes....the journey continues....

Chapter3/Nick

I knew they had done the last encore, as I saw the crew hastily dissassembling the equipment. I stood, moving the chair back out ofthe way, and leaned on my walking stick - it had taken me months of pride and pain before I gave in and used it. I needed it. And finding a beautifully carved handled one in a second hand shop, I could still tell myself it was an accessory rather than a necessity. Still the bit of arrogance, Pride, show off....but that’s just part of my personality, and was never ‘’just for the show’. So, I felt good with that. A dapper dandy, fallen from grace, but still with a little something of himself....well, I could try to tell myself that....

I watched as the stage was being cleared of equipment - and as before, Blixa strode up to me, took my hand and started walking...’’Come on, quick as you can, quick!’’

He stopped for a moment, looking at the stick, and said, ‘’I like it. It suits you’’ and smiled, and continued to lead me by the hand, at a pace I could manage. 

(So. Maybe not pity, then? Find out soon enough.....)

We went down the same corridor, but past all the doors, some of which were closed, muffled laughter and chat and the sound of cans being opened and glasses and bottles clinking coming from behind, some open, waiting for more people. On and on we went, to the door at the very end.

Blixa stopped and opened it. It led outside. The rush of cold air and nightcity smells flooded in, and a noise I couldn’t identify.

‘’Careful....there are a couple of steps...’’

I followed, still holding his hand, and saw where the noise was coming from. A large black car was waiting, engine running, and a man stood holding the back door of the car open.

‘’Guten abend, Herr Bargeld’’ he said. Blixa smiled and replied in German, a rush of words I couldn’t pick up; not that I’d ever known much German, even when I’d lived here. He stood back, and let me get in first, then followed. The man shut the door and returned to the driving seat. Blixa leaned across me and buckled my seatbelt, then his own. The car moved off.

‘’Where are we going?’’ I asked

He turned to me, lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, and said one word.

‘’Home’’


	4. Chapter4/Blixa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The car takes them back to Blixa’s house.....words and emotions.....

Chapter 4/Blixa

We sat together in the car, and for a while said and did nothing. Just being together again was overwhelming me, and that’s not an emotional state I like to be in: I like to be in control. So, I sat, breathing regularly, and waited till the moment came when i was ‘back to myself’.

And then, without turning, I reached over and took his hand in mine....I felt him lay his other hand on top and could feel my eyes welling up but no, no, I told myself. NO. No tears. At least, not right now. Everything was so delicately balanced, fragile, that a tiny thing could crash in and destroy any possibilities.

We sat like that, in silence, until the car came to a gentle stop, after slowly driving over the gravelled driveway of my home. Again, the driver opened the door, we exchanged a few words, and he took it to park in the garage....

And we headed towards my front door.

The house was one I had sought out for its privacy; the garage had a mews flat above, where my driver/assistant lived. This was attached to my house, which was well back from the street, with a high conifer hedge, for privacy.

The house itself, inside, had been a shell when I first got it, and I had taken my time getting everything the way I wanted: and when I was away on tour, well, that was the ideal time for the work to be carried out. Most of the rooms to the front were ones which were seldom used - eg a large reception room for the unpleasant but necessary occasional ‘meet and greet’ gatherings, or cocktail events - or used for study/library purposes. 

The back of the house was where I lived, away from any street noise(not that there was much, but I find such things irritating)or other vexations.

So, to the main room, which was a cross between a living room, a kitchen, and other descriptions which have no words. It was, I suppose, a ‘Blixa room’. It was explicitly designed to suit my own purposes. Things which might not be conventionally in a particular room, well, they would be here, if that was what I wanted. After all, I had no one to please but myself.

Till now. Till now......

(“Till now.....if he stays....” I am not inclined naturally to prayer, but something of that sort flashed through my mind unbidden....’please...let him stay. Let us be ‘us’. Please’) 

So. We went in together.....’’this way’’.....across the oval tiled area which connected all the rooms, towards this room where I did most of my living, and relaxing: a purpose fitted living room and kitchen, at the back of the building; the room opened out onto the garden at the back, which made a very relaxing and soothing place for me. This of course could not be appreciated at night, but the early morning sun streaming in while I sat on the step, having my first coffee, looking out onto the beautiful green lawn and the expanse of fields beyond....ah, that was wonderful.

No, it was purely as I wanted, for my own use. I had always had a slight but nagging feeling that there was something missing, something that needed to be there, but I could not not decide what. Now I realised - not a ‘what’. A ‘who’.......and now, it felt perfect, as though this was the person that it had been waiting for.....who else? I laughed out at the irony.

Nick, who was understandably anxious, jumped, startled....”what the fuck are you laughing at?”

“Later....I’ll tell you later. Ok?”

“Not at me?”

‘’Scheiße.....don’t be a dope. Sit, rest, be comfortable.....a drink?’’

‘’Some wine would be nice. That’s ok. It’s just the ‘filth’ that had to go; boring old fucker now, eh?’’ And he laughed mirthlessly....I could see that he needed so much love, and care; but never with a hint of pity - not that I felt pity: I did not. However, I knew that he would be sensitive to any hint of anything which could be misconstrued as pity, so I knew I would need to tread cautiously.

‘’Never. Never was, never will be. So stop that, right now. What you have done is a very difficult thing, and to be admired”

I said that in my ‘’I am serious’’ voice(some who know me may suggest that I only have an ‘I am serious’ voice. To which I would reply, you do not know me……)

(Later, when he told me about rehab, I knew how difficult it had been for him. I had stopped reading about him - it was too painful - and only knew the bare bones....the accident, hospital, choice of jail or rehab. I was acting on instinct and knowledge and knew that pity, self-pity, and anything related to those, were things which would not help, and may even harm. And of course, I knew he always liked me to take charge, and be the one in control....I couldn’t resist a tiny smile at the memory of those times....)

‘’Fuck’s sake man, Blixa, now you’re smiling?Fuck, look at me; this is nothing to smile at....’’

I brought the bottle of wine and two glasses over, & sat down beside him.

‘’First. That is not what I am smiling at. And second, I *am* looking at you, and am very glad that you are here to be looked at. That accident was nearly fatal. Not to mention the other stuff....how you survived that, I don’t know. I do know that if I had carried on living the way I was, I would not be here...... So, ‘’Mr. Still Knows it all....’’ despite all this.....here we both are. A second chance is a good thing, no?’’

‘’Sorry....’’ he began....’’Im still a bit fragile’’

I poured the wine, gave him the glass, and said, ‘’well.....you always did like a firm hand, hmmmm?’’

And he smiled that full, wonderful cheeky boy smile that had the power to melt me then, and, as I discovered, now......and then burst into tears.

I took the glasses and put them back, and enveloped him in my arms as he sobbed out the years of pain.

‘’Oh, how much I love you.....’’

To be continued.....


End file.
